


I Was An Island

by hetalialoser



Series: Hetalia Plagueverse [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Airplanes, America/England Feels (Hetalia), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established America/England (Hetalia), Hospitalization, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Minor Canada/France (Hetalia), Plagueverse, Sick Character, USUK AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 09:53:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9884648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetalialoser/pseuds/hetalialoser
Summary: When Alfred first heard of the disease that was plaguing the world, he knew he wanted to do something about it. Arthur's first reaction, however, was accepting defeat. So when he meets an optimistic Effort Pilot named Alfred F. Jones, he slowly learns that not everything is black and white—and death is no exception.Neither is love.( A USUK fanfiction not recommended for people who are extremely squeamish.)





	1. Before You Came Along

Alfred had always liked those small coffee shops he found in city airports. He didn’t have anyone to visit in between flights, so he usually stuck to the coffee shops while waiting for his next assigned flight to start boarding. On the days Alfred was too tired to scroll on his phone or text Matthew about the disease-infested world, he would sit in a chair, close his eyes and listen to the world around him.  
Most of the people Alfred had met had the impression he was nothing but a clueless teenager. No, he was nineteen, and he liked to consider himself past his teenage years. Ever since he’d joined the international effort for finding a cure to this disease, something had changed. He could still remember his first flight, the first time he’d seen the people sick and dying from an incurable illness. They’d looked so hopeless, so finished, like they’d long since given up. Maybe that was why he kept flying them. It meant he was even more likely to die before he could reach a ripe old age, but it also meant he would be responsible for countless lives and their hope that the clinics set up across the sea in America could grant them a fighting chance.  
That was something Alfred knew he had to do. Any hero would do it, and so would he.  
His phone vibrated in his back pocket, and he was drawn slowly back into reality by the noise. Fishing it out, he unlocked the phone to read the text Matthew had sent him.  
_Crew on in ten. Where are you?_  
Slightly disappointed his relief from work was already ending, he replied with a quick _coming_ , kicked back the chair and made his way with his coffee towards his plane.

 

...

“Hey, Mattie,” Alfred smiled, greeting his friend and sitting down in the chair he’d been assigned almost a year ago now. He had signed up when the international cooperation agreement was first taken into action, a few days after he had legally turned of age to help the cause, and he’d been one of the first to be promoted without any military experience.  
“Mm,” Came Matthew’s uninterested response, and Alfred turned to face the man as he continued conversing with someone he’d never seen before.  
“Sorry. Alfred, this is Arthur Kirkland, he’s going to be on our crew from now on.” The Canadian said with a small gesture to the shorter newcomer.  
Alfred looked him over in a split second. Bushy eyebrows, blond hair, bright green eyes, hand on hip. Not bad looking, either. “Heya, nice to meet you. I’m the pilot, Alfred Jones, and I guess you’ve already met Matthew here, my neighbor and copilot—”  
“I prefer First Officer—”  
“—So, Arthur,” Alfred continued, overlooking Matthew’s interjection, “What brings you here?”  
Arthur nodded his head as to acknowledge the former greeting before answering the question. “I’m part of the medical branch. They’re assigning doctors to each set of pilots and I’m supposed to study the actions and behaviors of those infected and hopefully aid in the research regarding the spread of the plague.”  
“Oh, are you British?” Alfred asked after noticing his accent.  
Arthur looked taken back for a second, then furrowed his brows and responded. “Yes, I am, what does that—”  
“Cool! I’m from America, land of the free—”  
“Don’t start,” Matthew warned.  
“—home of the brave, country of—”  
“Shut up,” Matthew and Arthur demanded in unison.  
“Aw, no, he’s getting used to me already!” Alfred complained.  
“Is he always like this?” Arthur sighed.  
“It’s best to just ignore him.” Matthew explained.  
Alfred pouted. “Hmph. Doesn’t matter. I’ll get you to like me, Arthur. Everyone loves a hero.” He said, flashing a grin and walking away with his coffee now cold in his hand.

Time blurred past for the first few hours of the flight. The takeoff went smoothly and nobody disturbed the two men flying the plane, an unexpected miracle considering the last two flights had involved skirmishes Alfred did not care to recall. He looked at the map below him, hoping for more good news, but it seemed the luck had run out.  
    “Shit, there’s an area of weather around New York.”  
“We’re already flight level, it’s too late to turn around,” Matthew observed. “Our best option is to just avoid it.”  
“Alright, but someone’s gotta tell the passengers. I’ll call for someone later,” Alfred replied disappointedly and muttered a few words into the radio to answer the voice that had piped up through it. He didn’t want to go back, but weather could cost these passengers hours that some of them couldn’t afford.  
Matthew seemed to notice his downcast expression and tore his eyes away from the window to look at him reassuringly, pressing a gentle hand on Alfred’s arm. “Hey, at least now there’s a doctor back there.”  
“Arthur,” Alfred reminded himself of the name more than Matthew. It was a nice name, if nothing else. Arthur, the one he was going to make like him, somehow. There was a moment of silence between the two that didn’t bother either of them; they had known each other for what seemed like forever. Matthew was practically his brother. They even looked alike.  
“Air pocket,” Matthew noted as the plane shook and trembled in the air.  
“Mm,” Alfred responded. He hardly even noticed turbulence anymore. His mind started wandering. How did one get to know someone else well, let alone win their favor?  
He pondered until Matthew politely suggested he get back to work, to which Alfred excused himself to go get more coffee. He could hear Matthew sigh behind him as he closed the Flight Deck door and made his way to the break area and opened the door to see none other than Arthur having a seemingly pleasant discussion with one of the flight attendants, Michelle. Alfred took it upon himself to learn all of their names and tried to get to know any new crew members that joined. Michelle was no exception—Alfred had met her only a week ago. She was a smaller girl, maybe even younger than Alfred, with long, dark hair, tanned skin and an easy smile on her face.  
Approaching the two with a faint, unfamiliar feeling in his stomach that he dismissed, he smiled and greeted them. “Yo, Mickey, Artie, what’s up?”  
Arthur scowled and replied with “Don’t call me that,” but Michelle just giggled. “Hello, Captain!”  
    “Captain? What is this, a pirate ship? Call me Alfred,” he said with a quick wink aimed at the girl. “What are y’all on about?”  
Still frowning, Arthur took a step back. Damn. He was going to be harder to crack than Alfred thought. He met Arthur’s step and raised him an arm leaning on his shoulder, which the man pushed off of him and glared. “We’re discussing the outbreak, if you must know.”  
“Oh, oh, what about it?” Alfred asked excitedly.  
Arthur’s eyes widened and he averted his eyes, but Michelle spoke up again. “We were talking about the progress it’s made and the progress we’re making to cure it,” She responded enthusiastically. “It’s gotten worse, you know, it started out as just a cough, but it grew into affecting all different areas of the body. Nausea, insomnia, it all led to worse symptoms like inflammation and vomiting. The more recent developments started occurring in the last few months, like Pulmonary Oedema and seizures.”  
“Wow, you know a lot about it,” Alfred marvelled. “Did you work in the medical field before now?”  
“Yes, I was a nurse at the Chicago clinic before they...switched it up,” She responded, becoming much less excited about the current conversation. She bit her lip, but quickly replaced it with a forced smile that Alfred knew was not convincing Arthur or himself. “What do you mean?”  
Michelle now looked uncomfortable, but she attempted to laugh it off with a wave of her hand. “They changed some documents and sent me to work in the air, because I didn’t want to participate in some of what was going on down there.”  
Alfred nodded, but decided not to press on the matter. He stole a glance at Arthur, who was staring intently at Michelle as if trying to read her expression, but he looked back at the pilot when he laughed to distract him. “I forgot I came in here for coffee. But, man, I really don’t want to go back.”  
Arthur frowned. “You shouldn’t avoid your work, you know.”  
    “Nah, it’ll be fine, Matthew’s got it. We’re cruising at flight level in a straight line—oh, speaking of which, Mickey, could you tell the passengers there’s an area of weather above New York?”  
Seeming glad for the excuse, Michelle nodded and quickly darted out of the room. Arthur looked up at Alfred with his eyebrows furrowed in concern, but Alfred shook his head and spoke in a slightly quieter tone. “Everyone’s got their secrets. Who knows what happens in those hospitals,” he muttered the second part, saying it more to himself than Arthur, but the other man heard and responded anyway. “I worked there for quite some time, and I can assure you nothing questionable happens at the clinics.”  
Alfred tilted his head sideways and smiled with one eyebrow raised. “Nothing questionable? Don’t you think everything right now is questionable?”  
“How so?” Arthur said, turning his head ever so slightly.  
“I don’t exactly know. But this disease...no, that’s not the right word, but...I think it’s changed a lot of things. People, for one.”  
Though Alfred hadn’t filled his cup of coffee, in a moment of satisfaction at capturing Arthur’s attention he stepped away to leave the cabin.  
“Ah. Plague. That’s the word.” He said and closed the door behind him.


	2. Boat in My Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred makes the impossible happen and Arthur recalls the world falling apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, sorry for not posting sooner. Spring's here, which means tornadoes (Y'aint lived in the South until tornadoes are a normal spring occurrence); ants, homework out the wazoo, and not to mention annoying family members distracting me from writing.  
> There's a little bit of a time gap here, just letting Arthur get used to Alfred and his antics. Also, more Matthew, because...he's Matthew.  
> Aaah, I know some people really prefer longer chapters (including me!), but considering it's been a week I thought it was about time I posted it and started on the next chapter. Warning for a little bit of mandatory backstory™, but I tried to keep it kinda brief. Also warning for fairly quick-developing attraction. I'm a mess with writing things slow-paced.  
> Thanks for the encouragement on the first chapter, guys. It's so sweet!  
> without further ado, here you go—

Alfred was fucking annoying. That was Arthur’s first impression.  
Well, sure, Alfred had his moments of innocence that made Arthur smile despite himself, but the fact remained that, the majority of the time, Arthur wanted to throw Alfred F. Jones off a cliff.  
The best substitute Arthur could find was glaring at the man when he approached and avoiding eye contact whenever possible. To no avail, of course, because upon joining the flight crew he quickly learned that not only was Alfred annoying, he was unavoidable too.  
“What do you want?” Arthur muttered, utterly exhausted and frustrated to no end by the interruption. His third week of flying with Alfred, and he'd gotten pretty used to nonsense, but this was ridiculous. “How did you even manage to get in here?” He asked while sitting up from his bunk.  
Arthur watched as Alfred looked around the crew cabin that the Brit was now living in before he responded. “I got the keys to everywhere!” Alfred said with a wink and a grin, and Arthur could practically _see_ his privacy evaporating before his very eyes. “That doesn’t mean you should be entering people’s rooms.” He huffed and crossed his arms to his chest, and it clicked in his mind that he still hadn’t put his uniform on. He looked down to glance at his green pyjamas. When he felt his face go hot, he ducked his head to the side so the other couldn’t see how embarrassed he felt. “You didn’t answer my first question, either. You better have a damn good reason for this.”  
“Oh, I do!” Alfred said with a bounce. “C’mon, c’mon, I gotta show you something!” The American grabbed his arm, but Arthur quickly pulled away. “Jones, you idiot, I’m not even dressed yet!”  
Alfred stopped in the middle of his persistent tugging to stare at Arthur and sniff. “‘Jones.’ I keep telling you it sounds weird. Call me Alfred.”  
Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed halfheartedly. “Okay, anyway, I’ll go with you if I must, but let me get dressed first,” he complied and slipped into the small bathroom compartment before Alfred could get another word in.

…

“Would you at least tell me where we’re going?” Arthur huffed as the pilot practically dragged him across the crew’s area of the plane. Bursting through the first door, Alfred simply laughed at Arthur’s sleepy-yet-confused expression and Arthur felt his face grow warm once more. God, why did Alfred make him feel embarrassed so much? Alfred popped his bubble of thought with a reply. “To the flight deck!”  
“The...cockpit?” Arthur said hesitantly, though Alfred didn’t slow as he dragged Arthur along down a corridor. Was he even allowed in there? There were definitely rules and laws against entering it. Surely. They wouldn’t let just anyone wander around a plane nowadays. “I’m not a pilot, you git, I’m a—”  
Arthur was cut short by the loud bang of Alfred managing to burst the door in front of them open. With a shove, Arthur was sent nearly tumbling into the small compartment. When he steadied his feet, he looked up to discover exactly what Alfred had wanted him to see.  
The sunrise. Real and bright. Not like the pictures Arthur would see on postcards or the kind he saw in his backyard way back home. Or, where home used to be. He lived on a goddamn plane now.  
This kind of sunrise was different. The light shone through the long wall of windows, pools of morning greeting the floor in shades of orange, pink and gentle red. The clouds hovered below them, the warmth seeped through the windows into the flight deck, and it was enough to make Arthur smile.  
He was well aware of Matthew’s gentle hello and Alfred walking up to stand by him, but in the moment, all he could do was stand and marvel at the picture before him.  
“I knew it,” Alfred muttered triumphantly and turned to look at the Canadian occupying one of the chairs.  
“Oh, hush up,” Matthew replied.  
“Hm?” Arthur was snapped back into reality to question the two.  
“Mattie owes me money.” Alfred replied.  
“I didn't think it would be that easy.”  
“What are you two talking about?” Arthur huffed with a frown, becoming more and more confused.  
“Alfred bet me that he could get you to smile this week.” Matthew explained. “Although, Alfred, technically the sunrise made him smile.”  
Arthur was appalled. What, so Alfred thought of Arthur as a way to stay entertained? “I—I…” he stuttered, not managing to construct a full sentence, while being well aware that Alfred was smirking behind him and could most likely see the bright red on his cheeks that rivaled the sunrise.  
“Matthew is right. You had nothing to do with it, and quite frankly I doubt you could ever make me smile.”  
Unfortunately, Arthur’s words did nothing and Alfred didn't lose the smug smile on his face. Ugh, Arthur wanted to punch that perpetually sunny glow right out of it. Alfred, rather than backing down, leaned towards Arthur, who was now facing him, and his knowing smile grew wider. “Aw, sure I can. I'll make a point of doing it again. It's a nice smile, y’know,” he said and stood up straight once more. A coin flew past Arthur's ear, catching him off guard, and Alfred caught it effortlessly in his right hand. 

Arthur decided he could add it to the list. It was a mental list composed entirely of reasons Alfred drove him insane, and after some long, hard thinking, Arthur concluded that catching a dollar coin without trying could be added to the list.  
Loud voice, that was a big one for sure. Loud personality. Annoying. That damn smug smile. The smudged glasses. The comfortable-looking bomber jacket that was practically glued to his body. The eyes that reminded Arthur of the cloudless sky. That cute, innocent grin.  
Wait. Since when had that grin become cute? Arthur hated it. 

…

The days drew on without many breaks between flights. Most of the time Arthur considered this a positive thing, as he didn’t have much to do outside of work. And, if he was honest with himself, he knew that too much time would leave too much time to think. Thinking didn’t lead to many good things anymore. Not since almost two years ago.  
It was, Arthur realized with a grimace as he scribbled on his clipboard, almost funny. The world had accepted their situation so quickly. The symptoms had been so minimal the last year and a half that everyone overlooked the bacterial disease, but within the last months it seemed to have gone haywire. The cardiovascular system and immune system were both affected by this anomaly of a disease, and though he didn’t feel comfortable sharing this idea in his reports quite yet, he was fairly certain the limbic system was being put under stress as well. Aggression, hallucinations, emotion, and even memory were big players in that area of the brain, which is where Arthur guessed the insanity some people seemed to develop might be coming from.  
Of course, the disease sounded hopeless when he thought of it like _that_. It was no zombie apocalypse. The world leaders had cooperated enough to function loosely and set up a system allowing people in more rural areas and completely affected spots to escape in search of treatment. Many of them couldn’t afford travel, so the cost was being under surveillance for symptoms and, though Arthur didn’t like the sound of it, being given experimental drugs to see what would work—and what wouldn’t.  
Yes, the governments did what they could. It was the _people_ causing the real issues. The world was a mess. In the last few months, accidents, terrorism, and crime had skyrocketed. Some people lost touch with others and locked themselves in. Others took the opportunity to abandon all morality. Those who were dependant were forced to learn to be self-sufficient.  
Arthur hadn’t been affected by the world at all. He didn’t rely on people for anything. It seemed he was the only one.  
    _No man is an island_? Arthur thought. _Then what does that make me?_

**Author's Note:**

> Yo, thanks for reading this. I'm glad anyone who is made it to the end of this word doodle.  
> I'll admit, this songverse/plagueverse came out of a dark time in my life and a strange interest in studying bioterrorism. I don't pretend to know everything about what I'm writing, but I have a clue, or so I like to think.  
> This is my first published fanfic, so if you could help me out as to what works and what made you silently wish for the sweet release of death as you read it, that'd be unspeakably helpful! 
> 
> This songverse will have 4 ships as of now, and this one is USUK, if you haven't already pieced that together. I'm lightly tying the songs and the fanfics together, but not so much that they're exactly alike. I do suggest you listen to these songs (I'm biased, they're near and dear to my heart), but you don't have to to understand the plot. It's just a way to smile and think, 'oh, yeah, that was in the song'.
> 
> This particular song is "I Was An Island" and belongs to the singer Allison Weiss (and any other copyright owners).
> 
> Thank y'all my dudes :))


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